Wreckage
by homeric
Summary: Ron/Hermione, Luna/Neville, Harry/Ginny. Three vignettes set after the last battle.
1. Chapter 1

-1**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.**

**Set after the final battle - first in a three part series. Rated for sexuality, although nothing too graphic at first.**

The wall is cold behind her. _That_, Hermione acknowledges, that she can understand. Tired, numb and cold as she is, the little part at the back of her mind that tick, tick, ticks on like a metronome sorts out various theories regarding the type of stone used for building it and the labour used to fashion the rock into what had until recently been an impenetrable fortress. Perhaps the founders had used magic, perhaps they had used giants…

There's a dead giant not far from her. She can't see much more than his foot, but if she got up and peered around the corner she'd see the rest of him and that would be… Well that would be wrong. Like stopping your car and looking at a car crash victim. She almost giggles; of all the incongruous images she could imagine a car crash would actually seem the most normal. _Do wizards have broomstick crashes? _She thinks about the logic of such a thing; the velocity of a falling body verses the ability of the brain to react to danger. Wandless magic verses the spells needed to cushion impact or to deal with the devastation afterwards. _If a spell is lost to the wind then does it actually work?_

Harry is alive, they've won.

Isn't she supposed to be happy?

Biting her lip so hard that she tastes blood, Hermione tucks her knees up to her chest and rests her head upon them. There are people celebrating in the Great Hall, there is the strange, giddy euphoria that marks the relief of people who had not thought to see a new sunrise, the undertow of grief for the many who had fallen. But for the moment she remains detached, watches the thestrals pick their way daintily among the fallen before seeking out a suitable meal. She should probably stop them - everyone that fought and fell beside her have been taken into Hogwarts, but some of the slain Death Eaters are still out there, and they're human too aren't they? There is the unmistakable crunch of bone as a thestral puts a hoof upon a giant's stomach and tears at the flesh, but Hermione does not look away. It's true, you can't learn everything from books.

"Hermione?"

The voice is tired and hoarse, but she'd know it anywhere.

Ron slumps down beside her, and Hermione does not need to look at his swollen eyes to know that he has been crying. Her mind, her stupid brain that gives her no peace when she longs for sleep chooses that moment to go blank on her and she doesn't dare look at the boy beside her. She can feel him trembling though, and it's not from the cold. The weather has decided that tonight of all nights it's going to be warm and clear - the stars sparkle, the breeze is cool but not enough to chill. At any other time it might almost have been romantic.

"Ron. I…" She mentally shuffles through the appropriate platitudes and finds them all wanting. _I'm sorry, Fred was a great bloke, at least you've got another brother that looks a lot the same…_

At first it's the salt of her tears that she tastes, but bringing his head down to hers, they're so close that it could have been his. Ron is warm, he is alive and she loves him.

She doesn't mind when his kisses bruise her lips.

She doesn't mind when he shoves her against the wall and pulls her knickers down.

She doesn't know what she's saying, but when he plunges into her _and Ow, that hurt, but she doesn't want him to stop, _she tells him to keep going, and cradles his head to her breast when he is finished, sore, confused and trembling.

"Hermione, I…" He stumbles over the words but stops when she shakes her head, eyes averted, her fingers still locked in his.

"I'm not sorry." His red hair is sticky with sweat when she runs a hand through it, or perhaps it's blood. His eyes are lost to the horrors of the past twenty four hours, but he pulls her close and smooths down her skirt carefully. Ron's thigh barely trembles when she lays her head upon it and she doesn't flinch when he puts his hand upon her shoulder.

It wasn't how she had imagined it - her first time. As a romance novel it would be pretty crappy - Hermione tries to imagine her and Ron on the cover of a book - her with flowing hair and spilling out of a low cut gown, Ron with an unbuttoned shirt to show off his torso. The ripping sound of tearing flesh breaks that little fantasy, and she snuggles her head into Ron's lap. They're still alive. They've won. And that's good right? Isn't this what they all wanted?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: nothing you recognise belongs to me.**

**Neville/Luna smut, so be warned dear readers.**

_Neville Longbottom, avert your eyes this instant!_

His grandmother's voice was so clear in his head that Neville had to stifle a yelp and grabbed hold of the wall he had been hiding behind to stop himself toppling backwards.

His grandmother wasn't there of course; her mind might still be sharp as Godric's sword (_and where was that? Had he really left it on the feast table like the world's most unwieldy butter knife?) _but her body was fragile. Fighting was well beyond her, no matter how much she probably would have wished to have been in the midst of battle, fighting off Death Eaters. Nonetheless, the thought was powerful enough to make him slide back from where he was perched on the half ruined battlements of Hogwart's school.

A few dozen feet below him Ron and Hermione were.. _rasp of jeans being tugged down and catching on rough stone, Soft whimpers and Ron's grunt of pleasure, and sorry mate I didn't mean to see, really I didn't… _Courting. Letting out a breath that seemed to come from some place inside of him far deeper than merely his lungs, Neville slid down to the ground, barely noticing when the seat of his trousers were soaked with cold water. _Sort of a cold shower, only just for my bum_, he thought with far more amusement than the feeble joke warranted. His erection didn't dissipate; hot hard and throbbing it seemed almost alien to the rest of him. For a brief, wild moment Neville debated whether to peer over the battlements and ask Hermione for a spell. _Hey Hermione, saw you shagging Ron and it turned me on so much that it looks like I've got my wand stuffed down my pants - got any advice? _Yeah, that would go down well. Shifting slightly he removed his actual wand from his back pocket and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. The smooth coolness of it, the power within it that he could control was reassuring. High above a couple of thestrals circled, to his left Hogwarts thrummed with a strange, desperate kind of giddy happiness and grief. Sat silent on the narrow ledge between the ruin of the fight and the celebration within, it took a few moments before Neville noticed Luna.

"Did you want to be on your own?" The words were curious but not embarrassed as any other witch or wizard would have been at interrupting someone who quite obviously _did _want to be alone thank you very much, and _no _wasn't that keen on company.

But this was Luna and telling her that would have been as pointless as telling her to go away. She'd just think he was under the influence of sprackle-whatsits and try and get him to the infirmary.

The infirmary where his favourite teacher was lying under a shroud next to his dead wife, alongside Colin, Fred and… Heat rushed into Neville's face, flushing his cheeks and pricking his eyes so that it was an effort to keep the tears at bay. All of a sudden it seemed as though he had swallowed an elephant ; every breath a struggle, his chest crushed by the sudden weight of loss and confusion.

Luna was beside him before he had much time to notice her move. Her cool hand slipped into his, her body fragile yet reassuring as she settled herself beside him. Far below them Ron grunted and Luna craned her head over the battlements to see what was happening before Neville could stop her.

"Oh." Her voice was mildly surprised. "That's not a very good idea."

"No, well…" Neville struggled to find the right words. Luna's father was several chocolate frog cards short of a full deck and Merlin only knew what his version of sex education must have consisted of. He himself had been educated by a couple of ancient WickedWitch magazines that the Weasley twins had smuggled into Hogwarts and the furtive mutterings of his friends, but Luna… Did girls even talk about sex?

Any questions regarding that topic were quickly answered when she turned back to him, her brow furrowed and eyes amused.

"If that's Hermione's first time then she's going to bleed, and that's not safe when there are thestrals about." Taking Neville's silence for confusion rather than crippling embarrassment, she blithely continued. "The room of requirement isn't far, I don't know why they didn't just use that. It'd be better than having a thestral try and take a bite out of you halfway through intercourse I'd imagine."

At a total loss as to how to even attempt to reply to _that _particular pearl of wisdom, Neville merely looked at Luna completely dumbstruck. Her fine hair blew across her face, white against the flush of her cheeks, and he watched her brush a lock of it away with a graceful flick of her fingers. _Had she always been pretty or was this some sort of post traumatic stress thing? _he wondered. _I mean he'd always known that she was brave, and clever in her own slightly nutty way, but.._

"Neville?" Her voice interrupted his thoughts, and he realised with no little embarrassment that he'd been staring at her. "You shouldn't leave your mouth open like that," she said kindly, "something might fly into it."

"Right." _Right? Yeah, well done Neville. Smooth. Stop acting as though Snape has asked you to demonstrate your potion making skills in front of the entire Wizengamot. It's only Luna._

"You're quite aroused," she said serenely, as though remarking on the weather or a mildly amusing article in the Daily Prophet. Giving a curious look at the bulge in Neville's crotch, she met his eyes with no trace of embarrassment. "It's probably distracting you a bit."

Any trace of saliva in Neville's mouth seemed to evaporate as his cheeks burned with what surely must be nuclear reactor temperature heat.

"Er.." His voice came out as little more than a croak, and he quickly crossed his legs, angling his body away from her. "Sorry."

"It's alright."

Beside him, Neville was aware of Luna getting up and stretching, but instead of walking off _and oh please let's never speak of this again, _she stepped over his legs and settled herself on his thighs. He had no choice about escaping then. She looked at him solemnly, huge blue eyes filled with…

Everything. Sadness, understanding, a strange underlying lonely compassion that had him reaching for the back of her head and pulling her lips to his. The kiss was tentative and awkward at first. Their teeth clashed for a moment and he drew back, her bottom lip soft, squishy and strange against his tongue. After a moment she shifted in his lap and it was better. The kiss stronger, deeper. Neville was aware of her hair tangled in his fingers and wondered if he could get his hand free without tearing any of it out. More insistent was the throbbing in his groin that had increased with indecent urgency as Luna rocked against him. When she reached down and burrowed into the folds of his jeans and fumbling with his zip, he panicked and broke off the kiss, his hand coming down to bat hers away from him, but she merely shook her head and looked at him with patient blue eyes.

"I told you, it's alright," she repeated. And then her hand closed around him and there was nothing but the feel of her small fingers stroking, Luna's breath hot on his neck as she dropped her head to his shoulder. He came quickly - the whole thing was so strange, overwhelming and _oh god, so damn good_, that there was no chance of trying to prolong the experience. Shaking, his vision still blurry, shooting stars flickering at the edge of his vision, Neville dropped his head back, barely noticing when his scalp hit the wall with an audible thump.

"Better?" Luna's weight shifted back, and he opened his eyes to see her watching him with something like pride. Pulling out her wand from where it had been hidden in her coat pocket she muttered a quick "Evanesco" and the sticky mess that was cooling on his stomach vanished. That done, she zipped his jeans back up and got up as though nothing strange had happened at all.

"Luna?" Neville's voice was croaky, but grabbing her hand he stopped her from walking away. "What…" imagination failed him, and he just looked at her blankly. "What was that?"

"Ejaculation," she said succinctly. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Quite understandable really; you very nearly died, you've had pretty girls all over you at the feast, and then you come out here and see Hermione half naked. Arousal is quite natural, I just gave you a hand, that's all."

_Gave you a hand? _Neville blinked and wondered whether Luna realised that she'd made an innuendo that made those muggle seaside postcards of big breasted women look subtle in comparison. From the steady look she gave him, he rather doubted it. Tugging her hand out of his, she gave him a half smile. The corners of her mouth turned up, but her eyes looked sad and lost for a moment, and Neville grabbed her hand back before she could move away.

"It wasn't Hermione," he said hesitantly, "It was at first, but then you were here and it was just you." _Right, that wasn't going to win any romantic poetry awards. _Luna didn't try and take her hand away though, and that gave him courage. "I liked it because it was you."

She looked at him steadily, dreamy eyes for once searching and slightly afraid. Watching her, Neville had the uncomfortable feeling that even with her clothes on she was naked before him. Stripped down - the girl beneath the daft notions, insane loyalty and ill advised radish based jewellery.

"We should get back to the feast," she said at last. "People will wonder where you are."

"Alright." Struggling to his feet, Neville was careful not to let go of her hand. "Let's go together ok?"

She shrugged as though she didn't mind either way, but her eyes brightened and she squeezed Neville's fingers back when he tightened his around her small hand. Glancing over the battlements Neville saw no trace of Ron or Hermione and smiled. Probably just as well, it'd be embarrassing enough looking either of them in the eyes when they next saw each other. _Not that he could talk…_

Impulsively Neville let go of Luna's hand and wrapped a hand around her shoulders instead. It was a gesture almost of ownership, but Luna just gave a small laugh and a smile that could have had several thousand different meanings. The roar of the crowd in the great hall grew louder as they approached the stairs; a cacophony of cheering and singing; drunken salutes to fallen comrades and a bright new future. _Early days yet,_ Neville thought. _Who knew what was yet to come?_ Glancing at Luna, he watched her expression soften and had the uncanny idea that she knew exactly what he was thinking, before they both entered the hallway, shutting the door behind them.

**A/N Harry/Ginny coming up for the third and final chapter. Sorry it's taken so long to update this.**


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